Horizon
by Nug Feathers
Summary: Melinda Shepard and Samantha Traynor's first meeting was anything but ideal.


Their only warning was a scream. It was distant, but long, high-pitched, utterly terrified. Samantha had just sat down to have tea and cakes with her grandmother, but the scream brought her immediately to her feet. Her knee bashed into the coffee table, spilling her cup of tea.

"What the—"

From behind her came a heavy thud. Samantha cast a frightened glance over her shoulder to see a large, dark cloud of… something pressing up against the living room window.

"Samantha…" her grandmother gripped her cane in both hands, trying to rise to her feet. "What's going on?"

_The Collectors_, the thought swept over Samantha like a sheet of ice water. But… the AA guns! Why weren't they firing?

She turned back to her grandmother, gently taking her by the elbow, helping her rise. "Nan, we need to—"

The window blowing inward with a crash interrupted her. There was no time to think. Samantha twisted her body, throwing her arms wide, shielding her grandmother. She felt the sting of broken glass against her arms, shoulders, and back. Then there was a much bigger sting, burning deep between her shoulder blades. She tried to scream, but found her vocal chords uncooperative. Her limbs were stiffening; a feeling of intense heaviness was spreading through her body. She was frozen in place, unable move anything except her eyes. Her grandmother let out a hoarse shriek and reeled backwards. The couch hit the old woman in the backs of her knees and she sat down hard. Her cane struck the table, scattering cakes and knocking her favorite saucers to the floor where they shattered—pieces of pink and white glass skittered across the floor. Another silent scream rose up in Samantha's throat as what appeared to be a large bug landed on her grandmother's chest, stinging her. A dark aura began to pulse around the older woman; a stasis field.

Screams arose from next door, the house where her parents lived. Her father's curses mingled with her mother's horrified cries. Hopelessness and fear knotted Samantha's stomach. More cries arose; a distant rattle of gunfire was swiftly silenced.

Quiet fell over the colony with eerie rapidity. The only sound was the occasional growl of thunder and the soft pattering of rain. Samantha glanced at her grandmother. The woman's eyes had rolled upward, showing only the whites. There was no way to tell if she lived or not. Tears spilled down Samantha's cheeks. She was never going to see her parents or her friends again. She would never again have tea and cakes and gossip with her Nan. The Collectors would kill them all, but not before performing horrible experiments on them. She thought of her sister, Tamsin, who thankfully lived far away on Joab—she would be devastated, the only survivor of the Traynor family. Samantha's heart ached for her. If only those damned AA guns had done what they were supposed to do!

Samantha was unsure how long she stood there motionless. An hour? Two? It felt like a lifetime. Her eyeballs burned. Her throat was as dry and cracked as old sandpaper. She could see that her grandmother lived, her eyes aware again, but she felt only minimal relief. It might've been better if the woman had died before the Collectors could perpetrate their evils.

A low chittering sound disrupted Samantha's thoughts. Shadows played along the wall as a Collector stepped into her grandmother's house. A bipedal, insectoid creature, it was so tall that its head nearly brushed the ceiling. Rain water dripped from its mottled skin. Fear gripped Samantha's stomach in a tight fist and a bead of icy sweat rolled down her neck. A pod shaped like a giant cocoon floated along behind the alien like a pet dog. Broken glass from the window and saucers crunched beneath the Collector's feet, but it showed no sign of pain. The creature stopped at the couch, bending down to examine her grandmother.

_No! Take me first, you bastard!_ Samantha thought fiercely. It didn't matter, of course. The Collectors would take them all, but her brain had formed the happy delusion that if she was taken first her grandmother would be rescued somehow.

The Collector tilted its head slightly, making that low chittering noise again. It straightened up, stepping easily over the askew coffee table. It grabbed Samantha, rearranging her into a new position as if she were nothing but a doll. Then it was placing her into the pod; it was just big enough to accommodate her. It bent down again— BLAM! There was a roar, louder than thunder, and the Collector's head exploded in a burst of green fluid and chitin. Silence. Samantha lay there for what felt like another lifetime and then three figures were leaning over her: a salarian, turian, and human, all fully armored. The human wore a helmet, but the salarian and turian didn't.

"Stasis field," the salarian said, bending down to examine Samantha, "colonists immobilized, but fully aware."

"Damn…" the turian murmured.

"She can hear us?" The human asked.

"Undoubtedly," replied the salarian.

The human removed her helmet, revealing a woman with golden brown skin and cropped chestnut hair. She also leaned down, placing one hand on Samantha's shoulder, "Don't worry, you're safe now. We'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

Tears, this time of relief, sprung up in Samantha's eyes. She recognized this woman. It was Commander Shepard. They were saved.


End file.
